I've honestly dreaded writing this blog post, although I knew I would need to document it. There are some things earlier in my life that I remember at the time were very near and dear to me, or experiences that I had that were just really incredible at the time, but they honestly don't seem real anymore because I never really wrote any of it down, and so I only have very vague memories of them, or one hyper-specific memory that doesn't encapsulate the entire experience. Stuff on my mission is one example, but I think that's because describing everyday on your mission would require pages upon pages of paper, and nobody can do that on a mission. Another is rowing, but fortunately Mommy has chronicled some of the major moments of that part of my life.
I couldn't do that though to Dash. It's crazy to me that even though we can't directly communicate with animals, or have lengthy conversations or weighty conversations with them, that we still can see distinct features of their personality that make them really unique and special to us. I don't even really remember when I first made Dash officially "my dog" - maybe it was when I realized that everybody was picking Chief and Cherry (the obviously breed-superior and breed-exemplar dogs that they were) as "their" dogs, and my natural affinity for liking what other people didn't like as much kicked in. Or maybe it was that I saw a kindred spirit in his low-maintenance, happy-to-be-there kind of attitude that tried to ruffle as few feathers as possible. Or maybe it was just him deciding to pick me. I'm not sure what it was, but Dash has always been "my dog". And I want to remember that, and also some thoughts that this whole experience have brought up with me.
One thing I will say, right off the bat - you can tell me all about the Plan of Salvation, and how justice and mercy are simultaneously and somehow impossibly satisfied, and how we all live eternally, and how death is just temporary, but at least in our mortal existence, there is nothing that makes this any easier. It's probably just our limited mortal understanding rearing it's ugly head, but there's no logic or consolation that eases the pain. I think just, over time, as the experience of losing someone grows more distant, the memory fades in it's intensity, and so it doesn't sting quite as much. That's not to say that the scriptures and prayer haven't offered some solace at least, but nothing really fills that void - it's selfish most likely, but nothing can really replace the feeling of loss that death creates. And that's why it just feels like allowing death to happen, and in such a visceral way, just feels like a major flaw in God's plan for us.
Of course, in the same vein, I have to acknowledge that the pain is only caused because of the happiness that has preceded it. I can't tell you how happy Dash has made our family over the past 13 years. Granted, there were the occassional cases of "Rings of Fire", and him being the unofficial biter of unexpected trespassers, but a low-key soul like Dash just brings happiness. I'll never forget us sitting on the couch, and after circling around the kitchen table a few times, he'd just come sit to the side of your legs, and then just lean against you to try and get some pets. And you'd reach out to pet him, and as you run your hands over his head, he whips his snout around with a big, wet lick on your forearm. And even though you didn't really like it, you still had to recognize that the action showed that he loved you too.
When Mommy first told me actually that he was starting to get worse, I immediately started freaking out, and couldn't really stop thinking about it. I knew having animals always meant that eventually, things would progress to the point where nothing else could be done, and they would have to be let go, but when you first get a dog, that seems so far off. And now here it was. I was freaking out a little bit, but I have to tell you about a somewhat tender mercy I received shortly after getting that news from an unlikely source. I've been reading the Fellowship of the Ring for a little bit now (trying to read the books since I've never read them entirely, and I love the general story and the movies), and i felt like a passage in there was like scripture to me in this situation.
For anyone who remembers, the Fellowship going to Lothlorien is actually a pretty pivotal moment in the first book. This is immediately following their travels through Moria, and Gandalf battling the Balrog "Durin's Bane" and apparently being lost at the Bridge of Khazad-Dum. They travel to Lothlorien to, on one hand hide from the orcs that hide in Moria by day, and also to try and recover from the loss of Gandalf and move forward. It's a raw and emotional time for them, and they're hoping that the elves will be able to help them.
Fortunately the elves do eventually help and strengthen them significantly, but Gimli's perspective on this experience was particularly beautiful. The trope of elves and dwarves not being particularly good friends holds initially with him, but then as he's brought into Lothlorien and allowed to see the yellow-blossomed mallorn trees, meet Galadriel and Celeborn and live in the elves overall domain, which another Dwarf had not seen for a few thousand years, his perspective softens. So much so that, as the Fellowship is leaving Lothlorien, and after Galadrield admits she does not know what to give him as a parting gift, Gimli asks for a strand of her hair, which "surpasses the gold of the earth as the stars surpass the gems of the mine", and which he says "shall be set in imperishable crystal to be an heirloom of my house, and a pledge of good will between the Mountain and the Wood until the end of days". I love this transformation of perspective, and how you can really tell the effect that the natural beauty has had on Gimli's outlook.
The part that really meant something to me though, was a conversation that incidentally Gimli and Legolas have as they take boats and sail away down the river, away from Lothlorien. It starts off with Gimil, saying:
"I have looked the last upon that which was fairest,' he said to Legolas his companion. 'Henceforward I will call nothing fair, unless it be her gift.'....
'Tell me, Legolas, why did I come on this Quest? Little did I know where the chief peril lay! Truly Elrond spoke, saying that we could not foresee what we might meet upon our road. Torment in the dark was the danger that I feared, and it did not hold me back. But I would not have come, had I known the danger of light and joy. Now I have taken my worst wound in this parting, even if I were to go this night straight to the Dark Lord. Alas for Gimli son of Glóin!'
'Nay!' said Legolas. 'Alas for us all! And for all that walk the world in these after-days. For such is the way of it: to find and lose, as it seems to those whose boat is on the running stream. But I count you blessed, Gimli son of Glóin: for your loss you suffer of your own free will, and you might have chosen otherwise. But you have not forsaken your companions, and the least reward that you shall have is that the memory of Lothlórien shall remain ever clear and unstained in your heart, and shall neither fade nor grow stale.'
'Maybe,' said Gimli; 'and I thank you for your words. True words doubtless; yet all such comfort is cold. Memory is not what the heart desires. That is only a mirror, be it clear as Kheled-zâram. Or so says the heart of Gimli the Dwarf. Elves may see things otherwise. Indeed I have heard that for them memory is more like to the waking world than to a dream. Not so for Dwarves."
I feel like this just vocalized so many thoughts that I've had over the past few days. Unfortunately when we decided to come down to Earth, I think we all recognized the difficulty of sin, and the pain that would create, but I think the separation from good and light was something we couldn't have expected or anticipated. Whether that's caused by sin in a spiritual way, or it's more physical either by distance or death, there's nothing really that can repair that in the moment. Fortunately we can repent, which covers spiritial separation from God, but in our mortal existence at least, death is long-lasting and irreversible. And we have memories, but like Gimli says: "Memory is not what the heart desires" - we don't want memories and thoughts, we want the people we have lost. Fortunately we still have memories, and the good tend to outlive the bad, but it still doesn't fill the ache that loss creates.
I keep trying to tell myself that Dash being gone is just temporary, and that it'll just make the resurrection more beautiful, and honestly that the existence in the Spirit World is probably better anyways than mortal life. But it's still no consolation for loss and death. And I think that's the part that never really heals. At least in mortality, we're all on a stream, and it's the nature of life to find and to lose of our own free will. One thing I can say though, is that even though the ending is painful, I don't think I would trade the years of happiness with the Dash for the brief moment of painful, spiritual poignancy in the end.
Cause the things that make Dash leaving so hard is also what made having him so happy. A memory I only remembered recently, but when I lived in Ypsilanti at Lakeshore, and Mommy and Daddy were moving to Michigan, I actually took Dash for about two weeks. I remember being really stressed about having a dog, because at the time, I was in school and working, so I left home early most days, and came home late in the evening. I knew dogs needed to go to the bathroom outside pretty regularly, so I was pretty worried about Dash in the apartment. But I remember every time I'd get home, and it'd be dark outside, Dash would just be waiting there patiently for me, and as I got his leash, he'd just be chilling next to the sliding door to go out. I realized then that as long as you have the right kind of dog, having a dog is a much less stressful experience than I had previously thought.
I'll also always remember that time because of our nightly routine. As I'd be going around the apartment, getting ready for bed, Dash would follow me, even through the small apartment, from the main room to the bathroom to the bedroom, just watching and waiting. And once I'd get into bed, with my microfiber sheets, he'd circle around a few times, and finally lay down on the quilted comforter that I had laid down right next to the head of my bed. With him there, I could give him some quick pets as we went to sleep. It was such a sweet time having him there with me, and us just living a really low-key life together.
Another thing about Dash, but for anyone who knows Aussies, you know they're generally highly strung. They're built to be on top of everything around them, and to take charge. While I admire these traits in the breed, it was almost like Dash recognized that there were enough pups in the "home pack" who exemplified these characteristics, so he took it upon himself to be the counterweight. While he might not have been the most aggressive protector, he had a great ability to go on walks on the leash. At said apartment complex, there was a time when my Dad had started working in Michigan, but the house we were moving into was not available for us yet. Sooooo Daddy moved into my one-bedroom apartment with me, and we ended up keeping all four of our other dogs in that same apartment, while Dash stayed with the Bosses on their lakefront property. Previous to this, I had been walking Dash each day on a leash around the complex, and they were leisurely strolls - honestly we'd get far enough out in the Frisbee Golf course, and I'd just let him off the leash, since he would always respond to commands if we gave them. Walking the other dogs though when they got there was a COMPLETELY different story. Chief was alright, except for the MULTIPLE times he saw a skunk, went straight to attack it both times, and got skunked both times (for which we had only Old Spice shampoo to wash out the stank - it did NOT work well...). Cher meanwhile we would take out, and while we could let the other dogs off the leash, we would dash chain three leashes together to give her some leeway from her usual self-choking habit of straining on the leash. Turns out she just wanted to strain then against the three leashes, and it was the same walking experience for us again. It made me miss my morning and evening constitutionals with Meeter Dash.
Another few things that i think made Dash unique - massive ears, with a longer snout, and a generally more portly size. While he definitely wasn't the breed-ideal, I think that's what made Dash so special to me. I actually think I like Corgis so much now because he kind of looked like one himself, albeit much bigger. The best thing about Dash though was his fur. Thick and curly on the back, and light tan in the summer, with a darker brown in winter, it was always so soft and full of mass. The one exception to this was when his thyroid was acting up, but that cleared up quickly once Mommy found out about it. I also didn't mind at the time, cause his normally larger figure was even bigger, which in my opinion made him even cuter. When he slimmed down, the fur just became more soft, so it was a win-win either way.
So compared to all of that, it's just sad to think of his poor body old and exhausted, when my memory of him is of jumping for frisbees and barking when we yell "SPEAK". I won't go into a descriptive detail, cause honestly it just makes me cry, but loss and age and death just suck. And realizing that it's right there, and there's nothing you can do to stop it, makes it all the worse. They just suck, and there's no real consolation for that. I can say though, that as I've been praying more and more about this situation, and honestly expressing frustration to Heavenly Father for how much it does suck, my prayers have changed from fear of if he knew that we loved him, or if he knew that we just didn't want him to suffer anymore, or if he's okay in the Spirit World, to just being grateful for all of the years and fun we had with him. I felt like for me, that was just a testament to how prayer over time can change your heart. I still get worried about those questions, cause honestly like how do you REALLY know for sure that someone you've loved for a long time knows exactly how much you love them in their last days? Cause that's been the worst concern of mine through this whole ordeal. But I'm also filled with gratitude for having Dash's soul with us for so long. It's so crazy how our normal lives are like 70% pain (working, cleaning, debts, bills, frustration, stress), and how everybody around us contributes at least somewhat to that pain, and yet animals never do anything out of spite, or malice, or hate. They really are like little beautiful souls of happiness that God gives us try and make our lives have something just completely and unabashedly perfect and beautiful. As we drove to the vet, I couldn't help but play the Adagio movement from Rachmaninoffs Second Symphony, because for me it just exemplified all the emotions I was feeling at the time - a humbling sadness that was undeniable as Dash's beautiful body failed him, and yet with a faint glimmer of hope in the promise of the resurrection and perfected bodies once mortal life has ended. And as it carried the tones of sadness of mortal life ending, it also provided an acknowledgment of the eternal nature of Dash's beautiful soul, and how, like the clarinet solo that starts out the movement, it just sings, unending and clear and beautiful forever. I hope that I always associate that piece with Dash, because I feel like it embodies the beautiful and meek spirit of Dash so perfectly.
I just feel like Dash exemplified that ideal, of an animal being a perfect and untainted and guileless soul of goodness. He wasn't the fanciest dog, or the most athletic, or the most perfect breed-standard dog, but he was the best companion, and the best friend we could have asked for. So even though I think it'll take a while still to get over it, I'm also filled with so much gratitude for Dash, and that we chose to find that "light and joy" with him. Even if losing him is like counterbalancing all of that happiness over 13 years over the period of a few days, I'm grateful that we chose that happiness, and I'm thankful it was Dash.
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